


Quiet Snowfall

by unevenstar



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood, Brotherhood, Family, Gen, Healing, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Historical Hetalia, Nordipalooza, Rituals, Viking Trio, Winter, fantasy vibes, historical fiction - Freeform, historically accurate names (i hope), nordipalooza 2020, viking warriors, wounded finland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23533846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unevenstar/pseuds/unevenstar
Summary: In the pagan days before Christiandom, Vikings run wild and free through the north of Europe. They realize that they are not alone in their icy domain, as a fourth brother arises among them. [Written for Nordipalooza 2020 to the prompt Finland, Sweden - Long Winter in the (pre) medieval era.]
Kudos: 19
Collections: Nordipalooza 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Listen -** **_Tuleloits_ ** **by Kerli**

 _The hunt._ Bjorn craved this hunt, as reckless as it was to go alone. Soon the moon would hang itself high in the sky, a silver ring of light his only way out. The most dangerous creatures, _ulvene_ with their gray snouts and howls to the sky, and even the bears for which he had been named countless years ago. He looked at the great pine forest - long had the snow begun to settle in, white tufts of ice that swamped the land. Bjorn recognized the utter pointlessness of going on this journey, but a feeling in his heart had guided him this way. A word from the gods above - he decided to trust it and carry it with him. Tonight, he would find something, whether it be a great kill or another matter entirely. 

Bjorn checked back on his brethren, Sigurd and Magnus, who resided in the house by the fire. As they were occupied, he got together his best leather boots, a hunting knife, and twine rope. A spear settled in his hand, and so he began the trek out. The soft crunch of the snow accompanied him as he walked straight into the harbor of the beasts.

* * *

_Taavi. Taavi._

He did not know where he was, lying in a clearing as snow covered him, seeming to pull him under into the earth. 

_Taavi. Taavi._

There was no memory in Taavi’s brain of how the bloodstains had appeared, still sticky and oozing out of his chest. His leg burned, and his eyes grew weary. Yet if he dared to close them one more time, he feared his life would be one of the past.

He wasn’t quite human. That was all he knew.

But he couldn’t move. Frozen numb, yes he was. Neither pain hunger took responsibility over his body, or the growling cries of _sudet_ in their fearsome packs. Taavi counted them off. Sheer exhaustion. Blood loss. Cold. All of them blended together so smoothly he couldn’t tell them apart. Moments became minutes, all ticking by as he laid in the snow, limbs battered and torn apart. Whatever had brought him down to the point where he could not talk or fight forgot that the most action a man could muster came from the soul. 

Yet he still remained there, consciousness threatening to cave in. 

_Taavi. Taavi._

But then he heard the fleeting noise of a footstep - by now, it had grown close, maybe not more than five lengths away. Taavi didn’t have the energy to curse himself for such foolishness yet he knew the person, man or woman may it be, walked with care, intention, and practice. 

The cold would not bring his senses back, yet fear would. 

Clumsily, Taavi grunted as he pulled his arm from its flaccid state and began to rise from the ground. Something tore open, but he couldn’t tell what. He wiped the snow from his face and watched, humiliated, as his hand shook. Taavi pushed himself up from the ground before falling, hitting the freezing ice and snow. 

The man. Growing closer. Taavi could see him now, armed with a menacing weapon and built like an ox. The moon shone on the man’s face, revealing hardened features...but not yet to the point of stone.

Every instinct in Taavi left still screamed at him to keep fighting, pushing. He cried out as he landed on his leg, already mangled from before. Before...Before? What had left him like this? What had possibly rendered like this?

Thinking was pointless. Taavi moved with his breath, up and out. Back away from the man, no, boy that approached him. Taavi felt for his dagger, grasped it, and let out a guttural cry as the latter reached out to touch him. There it was, the fighting grace of a trained warrior that sprung out to bring this assailant down. This energy was so rapid, so _feral_ , unleashing in Taavi as he flipped the boy to his back and gripped his throat, squeezing with his dirty nails whatever dared. 

Taavi dared, pressing his dagger up against the latter’s throat. Holding him down. Holding him down just as...whoever had done the same. Yet Taavi wouldn’t let go. 

A choked cry came out from the boy, who only looked a few years older than him. Taavi watched him with awe as he did not fight, not even as a stream of blood had begun to form at his neck. 

His eyes were blue. Blue like the crashing river against his brown. 

Taavi let the blade drop from his hands as he stared. A mutual realization, that the reason they had lived under each other’s whims was the same. 

Taavi had found someone like him.

As soon as this dawning came, all adrenaline extinguished itself, causing Taavi to collapse again beside the boy. 

This boy had strength. He had something Taavi did not. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taavi is brought back to the three brothers' hearth. Albeit his body weakened, his soul is very much alive. [Sorry for any historical inaccuracies...And the late post. Enjoy!]

The sight of him caused a primitive chill to run down Björn’s body, and the sight of those brown eyes in the moonlight was like diving into the heart of battle. There was no escaping them and what they held for him. 

Björn watched the boy’s eyes flutter shut as finally, he gave way and let Björn hoist him into his arms. He grunted under his weight, being heavier than expected, but now it was time to carry this _being,_ his new brother back home. Through the trek through the woodland under the stars and above the snow, Björn’s gaze was fixated on the boy in his arms. He wore a slight furrow on his brow, and had a small scar under his lip. The slashes of red on bare skin and the mottled bruises that tattooed him were all covered with a thin layer of ice. 

As fearful as they were, Björn knew the wolves and bears had long cleared their way for him; his brethren were the true kings of the forest, even if none of them owned claws or fur. They took what was necessary, and for the most part, simply revered the creatures nature had given them. 

Björn walked into a clearing, having seen the tracks he made previously covered by a thin layer of fresh snow. The longhouse was up ahead, a thin column of smoke puffing out from a small opening on the top. Through the entryway Björn stepped inside, crossing the threshold with the new figure limp in his arms. The weight had started to collect like heavy stone in his arms, but first he had to present him to his brothers. From their reclined positions Sigurd and Magnus stirred, having kept each other’s company since the night was long ago young. Magnus stepped up first as Björn nodded his head in greeting. 

“And who is this?” Magnus’s words were curt, given the unconscious boy’s circumstances. Björn answered. “Do you feel it? He is one of us.”

Magnus nodded gravely, first looking at the boy before returning back to Berwald. “You’re right.”

From the behind, Sigurd met the two of them in the heart of the house with a cold gaze. “And brother, who made it your duty to take him home?”

Björn shifted his stance uneasily, his arms slowly beginning to give way. As the eldest, Magnus took responsibility. “Set him down.”

With a heave, Björn lowered the boy onto a bearskin. 

“And Sigurd-” Magnus gestured at his companion - “Treat the other with respect.”

Sigurd, silenced, lowered down into a crouch over the boy. He watched Björn, with careful hands, begin to remove the bloodied and soiled articles of clothing. Begrudgingly, Sigurd admitted to himself that it was no man’s right to leave another in a condition like this, even if this boy was foreign. _Was he bound to him now like he was the rest?_

The first flush of irritation settled on Björn. He felt for a pulse on the boy’s bare skin, and found it - beating slowly, in danger of falling away. 

“What do you wait for?” he cried. “Bring me water!”

Sigurd found it in himself to relay his brother’s task, bringing back a bowl of it and dried _groblad,_ a common weed turned lifesaver. The knowledge gifted to him by the wise women once again was now put into use. He flexed the fingers on his hands and began. Magnus and Björn brought the boy closer to the hearth, where the warmth would bring back life. Björn had a wet linen cloth in his hand, starting to wipe away at the blood, the areas that had dried and the wounds that still oozed liquid. He took the dried leaf from the house’s storages and dipped it into the remainder of the water, silently appealing to the gods for its effectiveness. Nothing was like the fresh plant, but in the dead of winter, the only way of survival was to make do with what you had. He tore the leaf into bits, laying them onto the cuts and scratches and whispered a prayer. Compared with Sigurd, who retreated to the forest for ages at a time to practice, Björn was poorly equipped with magic. 

“So you need me,” Björn’s brother, Sigurd, muttered. It was as if he read the latter’s thoughts. So Björn silently urged him to work. In the light of the barely-alive soul in front of them, there was a twinkling in Sigurd’s eyes. A quick smile as his hands hovered over the boy, probing for the energy that laid within, before finding its source. Yes, Sigurd felt the pain and torment in his core but he pulled back after he dove too deep. A fire, a burning hot fire that raged with a fervor no amount of water could stop. He brought his burned hand into his chest. From that, Sigurd knew the boy was alive and would open his eyes soon.

Magnus had found a spare tunic and briefs for the boy, who still lay motionless. 

“You’ve done a useful favor for once,” Björn sighed, staring at the bloodstained cloth in his hands. Magnus laughed - it was a dry one, but it still carried the sun’s warmth. “And to that I have.” 

The extent of the two brothers’ work was done; only the herbs and the force of Sigurd’s magic could ever save the boy now. Until then, he was stuck in the chasm between life and death like a dance: One misstep from anybody and the boy would fall. 

Björn wondered about his name, the stories he carried with him and their future. A name to the body in front of him, battered and alive. Bodies were the house of the spirit, yet because one made a ramshackle home didn’t mean he was a man of gold. With a careful finger, Björn reached out and brushed a matted strand of hair away from the boy’s face.

The four of them were bound together under the softly falling snow. And when that snow melted, new change would come to life. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the brothers are united.

“We wait for  _ nothing, _ brother. He is hopeless.”

Björn felt the tenseness in the room, the atmosphere beginning to collect in dark waves that danced about him, threatening to throw him in. Magnus had dropped his usual upbeat demeanor in exchange for a sullen one, and Björn felt the winds change inside of the home.

“I promise you that there is hope.”

He watched Sigurd stiffen and draw away, the tips of his hands shining with a white light that slowly died away. Had he failed?  _ No, _ Björn resolved, he would trust his brothers: The only fate who waited for them was time, time and time again. 

* * *

_ Rebirth _ \- to be created again from the hands of the earth, thrust into the open like in a snow. Was this it, was Taavi’s second chance of life actually filled with warmth, and comfort? He barely recognized being in his own body as it was, and this secondary dwelling drew his mind in circles. Being grounded to the floor was too much. The light, although low, was blinding in his eyes. The warmth -  _ the smell of a fire, was it? _ \- ebbed and flowed into his side. Taavi let out a piteous groan and attempted to focus his gaze on himself, for the very least - in leaves, fresh garments. Who had given him such hospitality and benevolence, when he should’ve died in the dark rots of winter? 

Questions upon questions circled his mind;  _ what happened? _ What did he miss, where had he been before? Every part of him ached and wanted to part with him -  _ skies _ , it all hurt… Taavi reached out to touch his face and felt warm, human skin. He let out a little breath - it was all his. Quickly, he felt for the knives at his hips and found none, slowly letting the muddled panic sink into him. Gods, he was foolish, foolish to have…

A harsh voice interrupted his thoughts, low and ominous. Except he couldn’t tell what the man was saying; for it was a strange language with a steady cadence. No, no, no - this terrified Taavi - a sense of panic and urgency began to fill his body as slowly, he began to move. A sudden twitch of his arm left it falling back onto the floor with a  _ thump.  _ His body was rendered useless. 

Here it was - the new voice that now made Taavi’s head hurt, as he fumbled for control over his body. What was this feeling, being so weak and apart from the men he seemed bound to? They were tall, with hair like snow and eyes of the sky, almost the opposite of him. There was no way possible they could be connected...but Taavi’s mind lacked reason.

The first man leaned over him, as if studying Taavi, before exclaiming to what seemed to be his kindred. Taavi narrowed his eyes and withdrew, a little closer to the warmth that almost kept him alive. A hand touched Taavi’s shoulder as if to ask if he was alright, and he could do nothing but flinch. Was that enough? 

The two others drew closer to him, with wide eyes and a curious surprise. Finally, yes, finally - Taavi got to his knees and clumsily drew himself up to a seat without realizing that there were new clothes on him. The first man, with the stoic gaze, seemed to be repeating the same phrase over and over again, bringing his hands in a lowering motion. Taavi did not want to threaten the people who had seemingly given his hospitality, so in his frail state, he made his way back down onto the bear furs. His back instantly tensed up and ached like nothing else before...Taavi let out a groan. 

Making an affirmative motion, the man with the stoic gaze talked quietly to the one with wild hair - and like accepting a request, there was a sigh of relief. Closing his eyes again because it was the only action left for him, Taavi decided to let his guard down. 

* * *

Björn couldn’t help but stare at the sight in front of him - through death and life the boy had walked past to make it. 

“Does he speak?” asked Sigurd, reaching out a hand to touch the resting boy before drawing it back sharply. Magnus snorted and patted Sigurd’s back, to the other’s dismay. “There is a wide, wild world unknown to us. Do not be so ignorant.” 

Sigurd huffed, but fell quiet as Björn began to talk. “What should we call him?”

It was a simple question no one seemed to have the answer to immediately. 

“You were the one to find him,” Sigurd murmured. To which Magnus agreed to bestow the responsibility upon his younger brother. 

_"_ _ Vinland,” _ Björn whispered - it was barely a breath of air from his lungs, but he knew it was the answer. So much of the cold and beauty of the forest could be found in the boy, from the wolves that howled to the snow that fell, fell, and fell. Even with the high moon and the snow-capped pine trees that swayed in greeting, No amount of that nature could live so vicariously in him as it did. Björn craved the hunt, but with it came the bounty of its nature.

A hushed quiet fell upon the three brothers as Vinland stirred again, finally looking Björn in the eye.  _ “Ruotsi,”  _ he whispered, before closing his eyes.


End file.
